Shared Memories
by josie hardy
Summary: A little oneshot about how Nancy might deal with not having a mother on Mother's Day.


**Hiii! Remember me? Been a while since I posted anything, thought I'd better before I completely forget how :p**

**As you can tell from the summary, this is going to be Nancy-centric. So if you don't like her, kindly just stop now and don't read just so you can leave a review telling me how much you hate her, kay? :) (I'm not a huge fan myself, but who am I to argue with a muse who wants to write about her? :p)**

**Note: yes, I know her mother's name is usually Elizabeth, but I used Sandra in the first draft and didn't want to change it :D**

* * *

**Nancy**

You might think my not having a mother makes Mother's Day one of the worst days of the year. You'd be wrong; in fact, it's one of the best, and definitely the busiest. I don't spend this day with just my biological mother; I spend it with her and the two women I consider to be my motherly figures.

The day before Mother's Day, I fly down to Bayport. Not to stay at the Hardy home, but at a hotel, so I'm close by for the morning events of the next day. These are kicked off by Frank and Joe picking me up and taking me to the house for brunch.

The plentiful meal is prepared by Aunt Gertrude, who recruits the help of the boys and Fenton; she forbids Laura from raising a finger to help, and I've seen her almost bodily throw her out of the kitchen. We eat in the back yard at the big wooden picnic table – weather providing – and it creates the most wonderful feeling of... family. Don't get me wrong, I love dad and Hannah, but it's only the three of us. This meal, with me, Frank, Joe, Gertrude, Fenton and Laura, gives a great sense of companionship.

I remember my first Mother's Day with them; I had felt uncomfortable at first intruding on their special day, while everyone else took to me as if I was a part of the family. I remember the first time I gave Laura the small gift that I now give her every year; usually a small charm or bracelet of some kind. I had been so scared the first time, both afraid of being rejected and self conscious that I was the only one giving any gift – Frank and Joe would give theirs later – my heart felt it was trying to beat its way out of my chest and my palms were sweaty.

She looked both surprised and pleased when I presented her with the small box right before we were about to eat, and murmured a few half hearted "you shouldn't have's" as she took it and opened it up. The smile that spread across her face was enough to dispel any fears and I felt the same tears well up in her eyes that were threatening to escape mine. I think we both needed the hug to compose ourselves. As she pulled back to show Fenton what I had given her, I glanced at Frank and Joe, who were giving me "I told you so" looks – which they had, when I had voiced my concerns earlier.

From that moment I had stopped feeling uncomfortable; I knew my presence was accepted, that my tokens were appreciated and that I had no reason to feel out of place, and I have been going back every year on the same day. This year will be my ninth.

After the meal, there's really then only enough time for Frank and Joe to take me to the hotel for my things and then straight to the airport for the flight back to Chicago, in time to start the second part of my day.

_That first year, though, we were stopped for a moment._

Fenton had followed us out of the house as I was about to get into the car, and held out an innocent looking package wrapped in brown paper. It looked no bigger and felt no heavier than an average sized notebook, but he told me to wait until I was alone to open it.

I tried to wait until I got home to open it; I managed to resist during the car journey, it stayed unopened as I packed, and I carried it onto the plane safely tucked in my bag, untouched. Once I was in my seat and we had taken off, however, I was ripping open the paper.

As I had thought, it was a book. An average sized journal, so old the pages were faded and so used that it had to be held together by an elastic band. The only indication of what was inside was a small note attached to the front cover, neatly written in handwriting I recognized as Mr. Hardy's.

_"Dear Nancy, I suppose this is a roundabout way of giving you the gift you'll never otherwise get to have; the chance to get to know your mother better than through our memories and pictures. I know she would have been proud of the person you've become."_

It turned out to be a journal of case notes, and through a little detecting of my own I found out that it was penned by Mr. Hardy, Sam Radley, my mother and someone called Mitch Mitchelson, a classmate who had used to work alongside them. That book is now an important part of my Mother's Day, and my most treasured possession.

**Carson**

There is no way to replace a missing parent, whether it's a mother or a father. Unfortunately for Nancy, her mother died of cancer when she was only three and despite doing my best to provide everything she needs, I know that as close as she is to Hannah, even she doesn't fill the void.

For me, Hannah is a godsend. She was the first person Sandra and I met when we moved to River Heights and helped us with everything from setting up the house to finding a good school for Nancy. When Sandra became ill, Hannah was there almost every day, helping me look after her and taking Nancy out of the house when the doctor was due to visit. We weren't trying to hide the fact that she was ill - if anything, I wanted Nancy and Sandra to spend as much time together as they could - but Nancy was too young to deal with seeing everything her mother was being put through during those visits. By the time she died, Hannah had pretty much established herself in the house and eventually just moved in and I started paying her as a housekeeper (despite her initial protests towards taking my money.)

I believe Nancy took the loss better than she would have done if she had been older; in a way, perhaps losing her so early on in life made it easier. Fortunately, there is one thing that does help, and I was as surprised to hear about it as Nancy was to have received it. Fenton called me out of the blue, not long after Nancy and his sons had met, with an odd request; he had remembered an old journal that he, Sandra and a few others had kept, writing accounts of their detecting exploits in high school.

His first question had been whether I thought Nancy should have it, and my response had been shock. Shock that he didn't think it would be the best gift she could have ever received, and shock on hearing that after having held on to it for so many years he would be willing to part with it so readily. I was sure it offered as much of a reminder of Sandra for him as it now does new memories for Nancy.

Then he wondered if I thought he should wait until she was older when she might appreciate it more. I told him, quite truthfully, that I didn't think it would be possible for her not to realize what she was being given. More than just a book of scruffy writing and diagrams; it's her departed mother's own private teenage thoughts and feelings.

It was his final offer that completely blew me away; he asked if I would prefer if he sent it to me so that I could be the one to give it to her, thinking that as her father it would be better if it came from me. And for the third time I shot him down; I remembered all those days during high school I had watched the four of them poring over that book, writing down every single detail they could remember of their latest case, teasing each other over things that had happened or their reactions to the events.

Fenton and Sam had been working separately as detectives before they both found themselves in Bayport, and a shared interest in detecting had brought them together as partners. They met Sandra, who attended Bridgeport High, when they had been forced – against their will, at the time – to go undercover there, at the risk of landing the both of them in the hospital due to the intense rivalry between the two schools. It was Sandra that saved them from the football team – who later became their most valuable assistants – and when they had discovered that she had a mild interest in detecting because her father was an officer, they had banded together. Mitch had been Fenton and Sam's classmate; although he had no connection to police work himself he mentioned to Fenton in passing that he was interested and, after falling asleep in class and getting a detention (after letting himself get talked into going on a stakeout), he hadn't looked back.

Fenton gave Nancy that book the first time she spent Mother's Day with his family, and we still haven't finished it. One case a year, and as far as I'm concerned, if we do ever get to the last page, we'll just go straight back to the beginning.

Once she's spent the morning having brunch with the Hardys, Nancy always gets back on the plane to come back home. Upon her arrival, she allows herself a few hours to take a breather, and then gets ready to go out for dinner – dinner that she has made the reservations for, for the three of us, at one of the nicer restaurants down town. I remember the first time she announced this plan, and Hannah's reluctance to get involved. Before Nancy was old enough to know what Mother's Day was, Hannah had been discreet and we had both glossed over it, not wanting Nancy to worry about the fact that she had no mother, or to feel forced into accepting Hannah into that position.

It had taken the both of us to talk her into coming to that first dinner, and by the end of it I could tell she was glad she had; we now go every year, and its appropriateness is no longer an issue. Nancy always takes the event as an opportunity to give her a small token of her appreciation, as I know she does for Laura too. I've never seen Laura's reaction to receiving the gift, but I'm sure she was as surprised as Hannah was upon receiving her first one.

After the meal, Hannah excuses herself. I'm ashamed to admit that I'm not sure where she goes, whether she has another home somewhere or she stays with a relative, or just books a night at a hotel; whenever I've tried to ask she's brushed me off. Nancy and I leave the restaurant to head home, with one stop - the graveyard.

I'm not sure how our annual tradition of visiting Sandra's grave began; I remember ensuring Nancy was positive that she wanted to go, that first time. And she was. So every year we walk through the graveyard to the simple memorial headstone. Nancy always brings flowers to lay over the grave, and then kneels down to talk while I stand back to give her some privacy.

When she's finished, we head home. We find something to eat, usually cookies, and go into the den, or sometimes Nancy's room, and that's when she carefully takes out the fragile book with the thin layer of dust that suggests she rarely, if ever, looks at it at any other time of the year.

I remember the first year, Fenton had marked a particular case for us to read, and I think I understood why he chose the one he did; all the entries were written in chronological order, and this particular one had been written around the time Sandra and I had met and started dating. And never having read the book before, I was as intrigued as Nancy was.

We got comfortable (on Nancy's bed that year), me sitting up against the headboard while Nancy leaned back against me as she balanced the book on her lap and I held it steady. The first handwriting had been Sam's, and I started reading it aloud, as some of the writing was difficult to read, even for me.

_"Don't you hate it when adults seem to find it effortless to peg you? That agent knew we had been distracted, and he was right. Unfortunately. The name of this distraction was Carson Drew; Sandra's new boyfriend. Which meant her distracted with anxiety over their first date – I really don't know how many times she changed her outfit that night – and the three of us ready to deal with Carson if he tried anything…"_

"They meant it, too," I couldn't help breaking off. "We got into a fight one night and they cornered me after school; I honestly thought they were going to beat me up."

Nancy chuckled at the image. "Did they?"

"No. They actually helped us work things out faster than we probably would have by ourselves."

_"…It didn't help that she was trying to give him the impression she was 'normal,' as if anything could be further from the truth. There's nothing normal about a team of four high schoolers solving crimes. Despite the distraction, we managed to solve the case, no thanks to Fenton's dad; he seemed to find it funny that we couldn't concentrate, and we ended up having to bribe Gertrude into sneaking into his study to find what we needed. Fent could have done it himself, but he decided it was more fun to talk his sister into it. And after seeing the look on her face, it was."_

The writing changed then, and I heard Nancy draw a breath as it was identified as Sandra's.

_"The look on Gertrude's face when Fent started talking her into going into Matthew's study was... good enough to make me wish I had my own older sibling to try it on. I don't think she'll ever live it down, but to her credit she came through for us, gave us even more than we actually needed._

_And with the case closed, I could think about more important things. Like mine and Carson's first date. I was glad that he had agreed to go on a date with me; in one way it was nice to be with a guy who wasn't a detective, for a change. As great as the guys are, we're teenagers, and our every waking hour shouldn't be spent worrying about kidnappers and murderers (I swear Fent's going to be addicted before he gets to college.) I know it's not right to not tell him about the detecting, but... I can't. It's scared away too many potential boyfriends before - and it's not like I won't tell him if things get serious!_

_By the time I was on my sixth outfit, even Mitch, the most patient guy when it comes to people being indecisive, was telling me to get on with it and teasing that it was just as well I had started well before we were supposed to meet up for our date._

_"If he tries anything, you let us know." It was Fenton who sounded much more serious than usual, and I knew when I looked up that they all meant it. _

_That's the other great thing about our team; we all look out for each other, and we all know each of us will do anything we can to help one another._

_"I know where to go," I let him know with a smile, fluffing my hair up for the last time. "Later, guys."_

_"Don't stay out too late!" Sam called after me and I waved him off as I walked out the door..."_

I had to stop reading for a moment to collect myself, and Nancy snuggled up closer into my chest with a shaky sigh that sounded like she was ready to cry herself. It took me a moment to be able to carry on, and by the end of the entry I knew there was no point trying to talk to her; she had barely torn her eyes away from the journal long enough to grab a cookie or a drink.

You might think I feel outdone by Fenton being the one to give Nancy her greatest gift, but I don't. It would have been wrong for me to have been the one to give it to her. And I still consider myself the one with the greatest gift; I might have lost Sandra, but I get to see her every day… in Nancy. Even without a mother, I would be a liar if I said the day was any less special to Nancy – to both of us.


End file.
